Karma's a Bitch
by STFUharu
Summary: There's a reason they don't do prank wars. Sam started it, but Dean is gonna finish it. Inspired by a fic with a similar theme.


**Warnings:** **Slash** , **PWP. Not safe for work, yo.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Karma's a Bitch.**

There's a very good reason the brothers don't take part in prank wars. It always starts innocuous and lighthearted, but swiftly escalates as they strive to outdo each other. A spoon in the mouth quickly ends with the impala filled with $300 worth of pennies as a literal payback.

This time, though, it didn't start with something innocent. It was an outright declaration of war.

Lone Pine, California. The boys had been on a hunt for a supercharged Wendigo that actually turned out to be three Wendigo siblings that ate their parents while lost on a camping trip out in the nearby Inyo National Forest.

The forest ranger station- which was really just a goofy older gentleman and a striking blonde- was actually very helpful. Dean didn't even have to flirt with the blonde all that much for them to be allowed use of their ATVs. That will probably keep purchase as one of the brothers' favorite mutual memories. They better hold fast, because the good times don't keep rolling.

They saved the two rangers and a couple other people. Sam went to console the families of those they found dead, and Dean did some therapy of his own on that blonde forest ranger... Back at his cabin.

Except Sam hadn't gone to console the families yet. It was the dead of night, so why would he? Sure, he knew to make himself scarce, and they'd agreed that an open relationship would work well for them, but... Sam couldn't help it. He was jealous, and that forest ranger looked kinda like Jessica.

Dean and not-Jessica fell back onto Dean's bed. Her pretty little groans filled the cabin as he rolled his hips into her. She'd pulled his shirt over his head, running her hands up and down his sides while he furiously worked the buttons of her uniform. Dean dipped his head to suckle on her throat and puckered lips.

Sam opened the bathroom door, sure to have his hair askew as he stumbled out stark naked and flopped on the lights. "Babe? You bring someone back without washing the sheets? That's kinda grody."

The lovers squinted at the sudden brightness, and not-Jessica squeaked in surprise. Wow, that is not what she was expecting. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I thought you were just partners."

Dean was furious, but he desperately tried to get this under control. Sam's smug fucking face, pretending to be all innocent. Dean wanted to knock him clean out. "We are, we are. Sam was just leaving."

"Yeah. Partners... Has a lot of meanings. But that's why we love the tolerance we find in California." Sam could see the steam coming from Dean's ears and honestly had to fight the urge to laugh aloud.

Mood thoroughly ruined, not-Jess sat up and started working the buttons of her blouse. She didn't sign up for this! "Right, right-I, uh, again: sorry." And hastily gathered her things, dancing out of Dean's grip.

"So soon? Okay, see you around," Sam said, leaning against the bathroom door.

"No, wait, don't-" the door closed, and Dean cast a deadly stare Sam's way. Sam just met it with an impish little smile. _Do something about it,_ his look said.

He did. Dean didn't appreciate being so thoroughly cockblocked, so Dean exacted his revenge. But he waited several days to make Sam sweat it out with uncertainty.

They were about to head out of their second motel en route to a suspected haunting in Julian, California, when Sam stopped packing. "We should stop at a laundromat before we go. I'm outta underwear and socks."

"Turn it inside out like a man."

Sam crinkled his nose at his brother. "Ew."

His only indication thus far that Dean was still angry with him over giving him a "lone pine" problem was that they hadn't had sex since before then. Not necessarily a reflection of tension, though; Sam knows Dean still struggles with the guilt of having to protect his brother that John had strapped him with. Sam won't ever push or trap him, just happily accept whatever he is given.

Or taken? "Dude, where _is_ all my underwear? It's not in my... Duffle..." He trailed off as he noticed something foreign inside. He pulled out a pair of underwear, but definitely not his. He held the thong in the air, staring at Dean through the leg hole. "These yours?" They weren't even pretty, just plain grey, 3-for-a-dollar kind.

"Nope," answers Dean honestly. "Looks like you've got clean ones now." There was just enough amusement in his eyes...

"Dude!" Barked Sam. "Where are mine?" He tore up the bag, finding only more of the simple thongs but none of his choice boxers. Dean laughed openly at Sam's huff as he tore through the motel room. Little did Sam know, they'd all been burned and buried, and all of Dean's were safeguarded.

"Come on, Sammy, we gotta hit the road!" He called back cheerily, opening the impala door to load his things. Sam swore from inside, then stubbornly decided to go free-balling.

Dean made sure to deny every request to stop more than ten minutes at a gas station, and always saw to it that he was the one buying food so Sam didn't just buy more underwear. "You're a dick," Sam commented as Dean got in with road-food. Dean almost felt bad for his brother. Almost.

They stopped for the night, not intent on driving all day for such a low level hunt. Sam got his research in and Dean actually slept okay for once.

The impala would be in Julian by noon the next day, so they took off in the morning. They nursed awful gas station coffees and watched the sunrise as they drove. Dean was about as content as he could be, all things considered. But Sam seemed fidgety, and couldn't sit still for more than a few minutes at a time.

Worry bubbled in Dean's chest. "Sam, you okay?" He took his eyes off the road for a moment.

Sam tensed as he was called out and made an active effort to sit still. "Huh? Yeah. Coffee's making me jittery."

Dean looked like he didn't believe him, but didn't press. He paid attention to the increasingly mountainous terrain around them, sheer rock face to one side and the tips of pine trees to the other. The impala's wheels clung expertly to the asphalt to make the snaking curves.

He completely missed the oncoming attack.

Sam's hand was on his thigh, quickly sliding up towards the crook of his hip. Surprise and electricity thundered through him and he inhaled sharply. "Sam-" normally Sam let him do the initiating, because he was the one grappling most with this whole new relationship. His forwardness had him both terrified and turned on.

"Mm?" He hums casually as he popped the button on Dean's jeans. He leaned over the seat, working the zipper as Dean tried to steady his breathing and not crash the car.

"Sam, there's no guard rai-" he was cut off by his own moan as Sam slid his hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers.

"Don't crash, then," he answered breezily. He started pumping firm and slow and Dean leaned forward on the wheel. His chest heaved and sweat beaded on his forehead. He saw black splotches as Sam's thumb swiped over the head and he couldn't feel how much weight he had on the gas.

Dean's throat bobbed as he swallowed down a whimper of need. "Sam... I don't know if I can keep control." He breathed though his nose, brain fighting for enough blood to not kill them. Apparently Sam had a lot of faith in him, because he pulled Dean's member free of its constraints. Despite all his protest, Dean lifted a little off the seat per Sam's wordless request and his clothes were pushed halfway down his thighs.

Sam was enjoying this way too much. His tongue laved out against the dorsal underside and he could hear the leather wheel straining as Dean squeezed the everloving shit out of it.

Liquid heat trickled down Dean's spine as Sam gently tongued at the head. The fanning flames licking at his hips erupted into an inferno when his brother pulled him into his mouth and gave a long, firm pull with his tongue. No hunter will have to ever salt and burn his bones; the sweat and heat engulfing him should count for the next couple of lives. "Oh, fuuck..." Dean hissed.

The roads grew narrower. Only a foot from his lane and the sheer faced rock at most. They were well above the treeline, and going over the edge would be certain death. "Sam! Sam, i-" oh, but the way he took as much of him in as he could and swallowed, mouth like a vice...

Dean nearly blacked out from the tantric sensations flooding through him. He felt Sam cup him, making everything tighten in ways that made magma sit in his abdomen. Sam glanced up, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

He bit down just enough to crack Dean with another whip of fire. Dean jerked in sudden stress, and the wheel pulled. He saw the rock jutting out a moment too late. He hit the brakes, making Sam's head bump the wheel and he lost balance. A horrible, metallic crack rang out.

Dean cussed, and Sam sat up to assess the damage. The car was running just fine and it chugged up the road a bit to a turnout. The car seemed perfectly fine aside from the passenger side mirror hanging on by the threading of wires and chipped plastic. "Aw... Son of a bitch!" Dean pulled his pants back up and to Sam's surprise, put the car in gear.

They rolled down a steep decline dirt road from the turnout until they were surrounded by trees. That's when Dean put her in park and cut the engine. He got out of the car and popped the trunk, searching for something. He found the duct tape quickly, and Sam raised his brows. "Redneck repair job already?"

"Shut up, Sam" Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother and he taped up the dish mirror to its place. Somehow, he knew his brother had done that on purpose. "You plan this all along?"

Sam snorted. "Sorry for doing something nice," he retorted. But yes, that was entirely on purpose. Well, not the mirror; that was a happy accident. "Besides, you weren't complaining."

Now he's gone too far. Sam has brought baby into this. She didn't do a damn thing wrong. In Dean's mind, he hasn't either. Getting your underwear switched out is a far cry from getting cockblocked and your car crashed.

Dean made himself sigh endearingly and smile. "Yeah... I guess I wasn't. You, uh... You gonna finish the job?"

Sam smiled and opened the passenger door to meet him. "Maybe if you ask a little nicer." There was something that crossed Sam's face as he stood and moved, but Dean couldn't place it. Especially because that much person is suddenly standing in his personal space, dipping his head to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His fear-stricken erection jolted back to life against Sam's thigh.

The taller Winchester guided him backwards towards the passenger seat until Dean fell back onto it. They redid the ritual of removing his constricting jeans and boxers. But this time, Sam didn't waste time with build-up. He sucked hard, then changed the tempo to a teasing lave. Dean couldn't predict any rhythm and that kept him always on his toes... Or toes always curled, however the saying goes.

Dean caged back a heady moan behind his teeth at a particularly adept move involving just the lightest scrape of teeth. Oh fuck... "Sam, I'm not gonna..." He threaded his fingers through that long hair and Sam moaned. The vibrations had his hips rolling without his say so. Sam could feel that extra hardening as everything clenched around him. Dean came crashing over the ledge, like flying and falling at once. Sam kept up with the salty essence and leaned up to kiss Dean and let him taste himself.

How could he stay mad at a face like that? He changed the angle of the kiss, their tongues meeting in a slow burn as he rode out the afterglow of his orgasm. But even as much love as Sam put into that kiss, Dean could feel the need, the burning desire behind it.

They pulled away, and Sam's face looked flushed. "Dean, I..." He knew he'd been forward in the car, and was glad at the lack of backlash for that. But asking him to reciprocate, to do something to him... That's a whole different matter.

Dean understood. "It's okay, Sammy, you don't have to ask." That kindness actually shot a bolt of longing through his body. Dean gently pushed back on Sam's chest so he could stand. He righted his pants enough to walk and gently guided Sam to take his place on the passenger seat. "I'm gonna grab something." Dean left him, and the anticipation had Sam burning up feverishly. He had to fight the urge to touch himself.

When Dean returned, he had a small vial of lube. He squeezed generously onto his fingers and growled, "Clothes. Off." Sam obeyed and started to undo the zipper of his jeans. Dean expected nothing but skin, but couldn't hide his surprise and amusement at the grey front of one of the prank thongs. So that's why Sam was so fidgety!

Sam caught his look and flushed. "Shut up. Everything was getting caught in the zipper and it rubbed-"

"Don't wanna know," Dean laughed, watching hungrily as those slid down Sam's thighs and fell to his ankles. He moved between Sam's knees and grabbed his straining length with his slicked hand. Sam felt his stomach clench and heat rolled through his body like a tsunami. Dean pumped slowly, not gripping all that hard so it caused a smouldering, teasing intensity that had Sam writhing in frustration.

If his brother was looking for revenge, all he had to do was just keep that painfully slow pace. "Dean..." He moaned, clenching his teeth. Dean's hand clenched a little harder, just to make Sam's hips arch up at him with a cry.

"Mm?" He hummed casually, mocking his brother from before. This time, he did want Sam to ask for what he wanted. He gently worked his hand up and down, barely grazing the skin and swiping at the head.

Sam whimpered pathetically. "Please..." It's not like Dean didn't understand; whenever Sam spoke, he was rewarded with the pressure he needs.

"Use your big boy words."

Sam lifted his head to cast Dean a defiant state. "Something... Inside. Anything.' He got his reward and then some as Dean gripped down like a vice and pumped him until Sam was boneless.

All he had to do was ask. Dean pulled away suddenly and Sam hissed at the lack of contact. Dean casually reached into his pocket with his free hand and fished out the vial. And something else Sam didn't see. "Flip over," he commanded, and Sam looked up with question in his eyes. But there was so much trust; he knew Dean lived and died for him, and he wouldn't hurt him. Slowly, he concedes and rolls onto his stomach, bracing on his elbows and feet on the ground.

Dean came up behind him and gently pressed a slick digit between Sam's cheeks and the poor guy sounded like he was about to explode. His finger stopped at Sam's entrance, and he wouldn't let him lean his hips back into the touch. "Uh-un," he tisked. Sam was confused, until Dean's dry hand pulled at each of his arms. "By your sides."

He obeyed, and received another reward as Dean pressed his pointed finger in. It must have been a while as Sam hissed in pain and Dean had to let him adjust. The first time, he thought that he was killing his brother but now? Part of the procedure. As Sam relaxed, he slowly started pumping, searching for that spot where- _there_.

Unintelligible sounds escaped Sam's lips, and Dean could've sworn he heard Latin. Wow, that's a new level of geek. Dean added a second finger, a mystery object between them absolutely driving Sam to the edge, even with as slow and gentle as Dean's movements were.

Sam must not have noticed that the roll of duct tape still sat on the car floor. Good. Without breaking pace, Dean surreptitiously snagged the roll from the ground. Sam wasn't even on earth. He's seeing stars, wave after wave of pleasure drowning him and the only thing letting him breathe at the same time.

"Dean... More. Please, I need-" he choked off as Dean changed the angle so that his fingers pressed directly into his prostate, the thing he held causing an extra simulation that had Sam seeing the white-hot heat blaze behind his eyes. "I'm gonna..."

Dean let go of the object between his fingers and pulled out.

Sam gasped for air, his eyes wide at the loss. He couldn't move, as all of his nerves had short circuited from the bombarding electrical impulses. He was so close- his erection dripped against the upholstery in his need. "Dean... Dean- no, don't stop! What're you doing?" He groaned at the unbearable tightness in his testes, like someone had them in an orange juicer.

The weirdest part was that Dean had pulled out, but there was still something inside him.

Dean ripped off a long piece of duct tape and roughly grabbed Sam's wrists. Sam was so jelly like, even his greatest struggle was no match. Dean duct taped his wrists behind his back. "Dean? What are you doing? What- augh, what is that?" He shifted his hips, trying to figure out what the object was.

"Consider this payback, Sammy." Sam gasped as Dean duct taped him from the small of his back to the sensitive perineum, keeping tension so it was flush between his cheeks. "For cockblocking me and putting baby in danger."

Sam tried desperately to fight him off, but his hands were literally tied and his body wouldn't cooperate and Dean had the upper ground. "Dean, what's the thing inside me?!" he yelped, panicked.

Dean put on a few more strips of tape, just to make sure the creation would not easily be dislodged. Each strip added an extra rung of pressure against his body. "Sam, relax," he cooed easily, "Its just a coin. Not gonna hurt you. I googled it." He stopped his work long enough to flash Sam a winning grin. "But it will keep you from getting distracted."

Sam tried desperately to tear apart his duct tape cuffs, but they were done by an escape artist, for an escape artist. He cast a deadly glare at Dean as his brother hauled him to his unsteady feet. The coin was hard within him, completely inescapable. Even as Sam clenched down around it, desperate for relief, it only caused enough stimulation to torture but never to satisfy.

His aching erection made Dean's job a little more difficult, but a lot more amusing. He pulled the thong up for his unsteady brother with a snap and worked on stuffing him into his jeans. The gesture of buttoning Sam up like he was five was almost loving. He pulled Sam's belt to the tightest notch he could so Sam couldn't get in and pull off the tape.

Dean slapped his ass and coerced him in to the car. "Karma's a bitch, huh Sammy?"

Sam stared at him in incredulous horror as Dean casually wiped his hands and strode over to the driver's side. He's gonna make him ride like this the whole way?!

From the smirk on Dean's face: Yes.


End file.
